


missed your chance

by sauceewrites



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Crying, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, but its unrequited....., des breaks down thats it, des centric, everyone else is just a mention, mixed pov... yeah its a mess lol, yeah its basically just a vent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25724206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sauceewrites/pseuds/sauceewrites
Summary: yeah this is just a tiny little vent. i didn't hate how it turned out and it fits with my headcanons so i figured i would post it hehe
Relationships: Designer Headphones/Mask (Splatoon)
Kudos: 9





	missed your chance

**Author's Note:**

> tw: just spiraling thoughts. no self harm or anything, but i thought i should mention it nonetheless

A slow stare at the dark ceiling. A long blink, another breath in and then out. The fan blowing cool night air in from its place, wedged in the window frame. The distant sound of several cars, and a train from much further off.

He's right there. Just in the room across the hall from your room, in the same household. He’s even probably still awake at this hour, he always stays up on Saturdays. What’s stopping you?

Oh, your hearts beat just thinking of him. They almost beat for him. Although, the fluttering in your chest is quickly replaced by a bittersweet ache. The sour feeling compresses your lungs, your hearts, your brain. You want to curl up into a ball to stave it off but find yourself lacking the energy to do so, continuing to lay on your back, in an unmade bed, in your dark room.

Cyan tentacles lay flopped on the sheets, topknot taken out hours ago, almost looking grey in the nonexistent lighting. Designer Headphones hadn't even bothered changing after practice today. What's the point, really, if no one is going to see him until tomorrow morning anyways? He didn't even bother going out to the main room for dinner tonight, skipping the meal completely and substituting it for a few stale saltines, left in his room from a few months ago. It would just hurt more to see their leader there, gas mask off, at the table. However much Des tried to, he already knew he wouldn't always be able hide the hurt he was feeling. It became too much, especially outside of practice. There was no distraction from his own personal problems at home. The atmosphere at the dinner table would be suffocating because of him, and Des didn't want to put Mask or the girls through that. 

This had all started roughly 22 hours ago, when Mask had texted Des for advice. Advice on… romance. The cat-faced boy had no idea why their leader had texted him, given that he has never even been hugged by anyone in more than a platonic matter. Maybe it was because romancy, slice-of-life animes were his favorite genre. That was the only cause he could think of.

However, Mask had texted about having… feelings for boys. Two, or three boys, in particular. He wouldn't give their names, but Des knew them immediately. It had to be them. And those feelings must be the reason that Mask was now practicing more often with those three instead of his own team. 

Of course, despite the cold, metaphorical stake of unrequitedness being driven through his hearts, Designer had attempted to give the most solid advice he could fabricate:

“always try 2 smile when they smile!! and make eye contact with them so dey know ur listening :3c”

I know it’s just the shape my mouth is normally in, but I promise it's always genuine when I'm around you.

“try to always pay attention wen they talk !!! u can pick up hints for later and stuffs ^w^”

I never miss a word of what you say. 

“make sure to giv it time!! make sure dat it's not just a lil crush, and that ur brain is 0_O seriouz about luving them!!!” 

I've given it plenty of time. Years, ever since this team was formed, really.

“XD make sure u don't alwayyzzz txt first, that can make u seem clingy, a lot of ppl don't liek dat”

I try not to be like this, but sometimes I'm just a stupid fucking hypocrite. I can't help it, I just need to hear from you.

“just b urself, then u can be sure that they love you for you !! :3”

I’m right here. I always have been. I have seen you, as yourself, every part of you, even the lesser parts, and I love you.

…

“oh, and good luck mask!!! i’m sure they luv u already :3”

Nausea. Immediately after sending that final text to Mask, that early morning, Des had finally broken. Shoved his face into a pillow, and let the tears squeeze out and dye the fabric cyan. He had wanted to scream, but had stifled the urge and settled on quietly weeping, until it had escalated into mute sobbing, then hyperventilation, then dry heaving. He had eventually vomited into an empty plastic shopping bag because he had sobbed so intensely, yet hadn't made a sound, because all three of his roommates had been home. Cod, how fucking disgusting was that? Almost pitiful. How often do you hear of a sixteen year old child crying so hard he throws up, just because he didn't get his way? 

Just thinking about it again brought an ill kind of churn to his stomach, a heavy ache to his chest, and a now-familiar burn back up to his eyes. This life he was living wasn't really much of a life at all, he had realized. Yes, he had a team, and two really great friends in Moon and Jersey. But so much of everyday he had spent thinking, concentrating, caring about the leader of their team, and he hadn't even fully realized the impact of it until everything came crashing down. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't a happy ending. This isn't how it goes in fiction.

It was fine before. Why did it all change? 

Them. 

He had missed his chance.

Now Des was beginning to spiral further into his thoughts, fists pressed to his temples, eyes wide and brimming with wetness. Trembling a bit.

Well, I wonder… Mask, do you remember, when that new game came out for the PlayStation, and both of us had pooled our money to buy it, and we beat it in one night? You had your mask off all night, I remember the glow of the screen on your tentacles, and your face. I remember your proud smile, after you beat the boss.

Did you forget about when the girls were out for a night at another person’s house, we ordered take out and binged all the episodes of Your Lie In April? You had gotten teary-eyed at the ending, and it was okay, because I had too. We sat a bit closer to each other, almost touching but not quite. Just the presence was enough.

How about when I found you at the park after a rough practice? You were feeling awful about yourself. I told you that you were a great leader for us, and it’s true, you are. It was just a bad day, we all have those. That team we were up against was tough anyways. You had let me hold you, embrace you in front of the swing set. I remember the little sniffle that was hardly audible because of your gas mask. I had decided not to say anything, but hug a bit tighter.

Do you remember, when we had practiced, one on one, at Walleye Warehouse? It had been midday, air crisp in the fall. You splatted me so many times, yet I couldn't be mad. You looked so happy battling me, and I was happy battling you. Tri-slosher against Carbon Roller Deco. I had been able to get you a few times. You had laughed while we were sparring in a corner and I kept dodging your seekers. I haven't forgotten that sound, it was hiccup-y, cheerful, and such a contrast from the usual, mean laugh you do to intimidate other teams.

Des couldn’t forget these memories and so many others that were even less significant, no matter how much he now wanted to. They had been replayed so many times in his mind, he couldn't forget them. He had internalized these cherished moments he had with Mask, and he hadn't even realized it.

They were the past. When they were younger, before the S4 was battling together, when it was just Team Cyan. Mask, Designer, Moon, and Jersey. 

It was all disappearing. A new phase was beginning. They were all growing up. He couldn't do anything to stop it, because it had already begun.

But, would he even stop it if he was given a chance? It would be cruel to do so. It would hold his leader back from his future, even though that future was one that Des couldn't follow him into.

Des stared up into the ceiling. Tears bubbled past the corners of his eyes and blurred his sight, and this time, he let them fall down his cheeks. The double curve that made his mouth trembled, and faltered. He brought his hands to his face, and pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes to stop the waterworks, even if just for a bit. He pressed so hard he saw stars, blotches of color, and didn’t even care. The nausea was returning to his stomach.

He had missed his chance.

**Author's Note:**

> so i may or may not write a multi chapter coroika story one of these days, s4 centric.... only reason i'm mentioning this is because this ficlet kinda fits in with the storyline i have in my head for the whole picture.... hehe :>


End file.
